Atelier Lauren Jane

Author: Lauren

  • Medieval Revival: Featuring Interview With Designer Samantha Pleet 

    Medieval Revival: Featuring Interview With Designer Samantha Pleet 

    The air is thick with the scent of damp stone and burning tallow, the flickering light of candelabras casting long shadows across the marble halls. Somewhere beyond the towering arches, a lute strums a melancholic tune, each note carrying the melody of a forgotten age. And in the hush of nightfall, a figure emerges, draped in velvet so dark it seems to drink in the moonlight. The swish of fabric against the cold floor, the glint of metal filigree catching the firelight—this is not the past, but the present, resurrected in silk and steel.

    The medieval revival sweeping through fashion is no fleeting fancy, no mere dalliance with nostalgia. It is a grand reclamation of magic and romance, a yearning for the beauty of an era when garments bore weight, both in fabric and in meaning. The modern world, weary of its own transience, turns its gaze to an age where craftsmanship reigned, where every embroidery thread spun a tale and every jewel held the weight of centuries.

    Designers, like alchemists of old, have transmuted history into haute couture, conjuring forth gowns that hint at courtly love and adventure. Billowing sleeves catch the wind like the sails of a ship bound for unknown lands. “Stays” (the precursor to corsets), recall the sculpted grace of statues in dimly lit chapels. Chainmail gleams in the candlelight, evoking the silent ardency of knights sworn to their cause. Each piece is an incantation infused in wool and linen. 

    The artistry of the Middle Ages unfurls anew, its gilded details and celestial motifs finding their way onto rich brocades and flowing cloaks. Like the sacred relics enshrined in gothic cathedrals, these garments demand reverence. Pearls drip like dewdrops from delicate veils, while precious stones nestle in as if plucked from the crown of a long-beloved queen. Even the architecture of the time—a symphony of pointed arches and soaring spires—finds its place in the structured silhouettes and dramatic drapery of this revived aesthetic.

    Medieval art, painted in gold leaf and deepest azurite, offers another wellspring of inspiration. The intricate illuminations of manuscripts, their swirling vines and delicate figures, appear once more. Triptychs depicting saints with sorrowful eyes and robes of scarlet and sapphire relay their mystery through the intricate folds of modern pattern design. The glow of stained glass windows lend their color palettes to jewel-toned velvets and rich fabrics. Each piece of this revival mirrors the past, not merely in style, but in spirit—honoring an age where every prayer to beauty was hand-spun.

    And what of the stories? The great tales of honor and heartbreak, of knights who ride into the night never to return, of love letters penned on parchment and doused in ink from quill feathers? They, too, live again. The very essence of medieval literature—its devotion to enchantment, its obsession with fate—seeps into the folds of these garments, turning them into wearable poetry. To don them is to step into folklore, to hear the distant clamor of a joust, to feel the hush of a moonlit garden where lovers meet in secret. 

    Why now? When the fashion industry has long replaced its looms for factories? Perhaps it is because we seek the permanence that the Middle Ages promised. In an age of haste, we long for the patience of hand-stitched garments, for the weight of a gown heavy with history. Fashion, ever the mirror of desire, has answered with an invitation: step through the cordiform book, into a time when every piece was a story. 

    In a moment of yearning to keep the Medieval aesthetic from becoming “too online” I posted to my instagram “Medieval revival trending in 2025! This era literally courses through my veins but yea..” coupled with imagery of a chainmail pouch, a middle ages costume design sketch, and the unicorn rests in a garden tapestry. Though with all intentions of being a gatekeeper. Here is where I met Samantha Pleet. 

    Samantha Pleet has created a world where fashion feels like a fairy tale, where traces of magic are interlaced into the seams of everyday wear. Her designs are a portal between past and present—melding medieval romance, mythological grandeur, and historical silhouettes with a modern sensibility. Whether drawing inspiration from Joan of Arc’s fearless spirit or reimagining the unicorn tapestries in her textiles, Pleet’s work is a witness to the power of clothing as both armor and narrative. In this conversation, she shares the inspirations behind her collections, the role of storytelling in her creative process, and the enduring enchantment of fashion. 

    Interview With Samantha Pleet 

    Lauren Jane: With medieval-inspired fashion trending in the fast-paced world of micro-trends, how do you feel about this medieval resurgence aligning with your long-standing aesthetic, particularly as a designer committed to slow, intentional production? Does the trend’s fleeting nature challenge or complement your vision?

    Samantha Pleet: I love seeing people embrace medieval-inspired looks because dressing up should always be fun.  As a designer, I’m happy to see people experiment with fashion and don’t take trends too seriously. I also hope that some of this inspiration lingers beyond the trend cycle, even if it just becomes a small part of someone’s personal style. Fairy tales and magic should always have a place in the wardrobe.

    For me, this aesthetic isn’t a passing phase, it’s intrinsic to who I am. My love for fairy tales, films, and legends has shaped my work from the very beginning. When I was little, I had a magical old Victorian trunk filled with family heirlooms that I completely tore apart to create my own costumes and stories. I was obsessed with Shelley Duvall’s Faerie Tale Theatre and would weave my own narratives from those inspirations. Later, at Pratt, I studied the history of costume and spent hours in the archives at The Met. Traveling to places like Venice and Paris deepened my passion for historical fashion, and those influences became the foundation of my first collection in 2007, where we dressed models in coats and hardies, tricorn hats, and harlequin tights.  That inspiration has never left me, and it continues to inform everything I do.  

    Lauren Jane: Your designs feel like a bridge between the past and present, with medieval, mythological, and art historical references merged into contemporary silhouettes. What draws you most to historical narratives, and how do you reimagine them for modern wearers?

    Samantha Pleet: You can see my love of history in the way I name my pieces, they are inspired by legends, myths, and historical figures. For my Fall 14 collection, I drew inspiration from Joan of Arc, even creating a short film to bring the story to life. The silhouettes in that collection echoed armor, and we incorporated Joan of Arc embroidery as a nod to her legacy. But beyond the historical references, I want people to feel like they’re stepping into a story when they wear my designs. Fashion should make you feel like the heroine, or hero of your own adventure. That was also the season I first introduced our beloved Illuminated Print.

    Lauren Jane: Fashion often serves as armor for self-expression. What is one piece in your collection that feels most like armor to you?

    Samantha Pleet: The Shield Corset, not only does it have the silhouette of armor, but it also feels powerful when worn, it accentuates and protects the form. I love pairing it with matching pants as my interpretation of a suit, or sometimes with long gloves for an even more dramatic effect. There’s something magical about the way it all comes together. It makes you feel ready to step into the world even if your fairy tale for the night is a gallery opening instead of a duel.

    Lauren Jane: There’s an undeniable sense of storytelling in your collections—from Persephone’s journey through the underworld to Arcadian dreamscapes. How do literature, folklore, and mythology shape your creative process?

    Samantha Pleet: Storytelling is at the heart of everything I create. I need a reason and a passion behind each piece. My Persephone collection felt particularly epic, it embodied the balance of light and darkness that I think makes any design compelling. Right now, I’m preparing to re-release my Elizabeth collection, inspired by Queen Elizabeth ! who is such a fascinating, complex character. The embroidery in that collection is something I imagine she might have worn herself! I love thinking about what these historical figures would wear in a parallel, modern day universe.

    Lauren Jane: If you could step into any painting or literary world and design garments for its characters, where would you find yourself, and what would you create?

    Samantha Pleet: An obvious one for me is Midsummer’s Night’s Dream. I can just imagine all the magical clothing I could design for the characters to run around an enchanted forest and fall in love in,  I have always wanted to do a short film inspired by this.

    Lauren Jane: From rosettes to ribbons, texture plays such a role in your designs. Are there any historical garment techniques, silhouettes, or forgotten crafts you dream of reviving that you haven’t already?

    Samantha Pleet: There are so many techniques I’d love to explore further! I’d like to try beading and the idea of creating custom jacquards has intrigued me.  

    One of my favorite explorations of historical craft is my Unicorn Tapestry print, that’s what I’d like to do in a jacquard.  I designed the print based on the famous medieval tapestries but removed the people so the unicorns could be truly free. I loved the idea of taking something so iconic and slightly altering the narrative letting the unicorns exist in their own world. It’s this kind of storytelling through fabric that excites me.

    Lauren Jane: Magic is at the heart of your brand. What does magic mean to you in the context of fashion, and how do you spin it into every collection?

    Samantha Pleet: I get a visual image that appears in my mind, and it takes me on a magical journey, becoming something you never imagined. What you have in the end, that is magic. what takes shape after playing around with color, silhouette, technique, and fabric and how it all comes together on the form.  It’s an emergent quality where the process leads to the magical result.

    After all, we all wish to feel like the free unicorn from the tapestry—untethered, ethereal, and part of a story larger than ourselves. Samantha Pleet’s designs offer just that: a way to step into a world where history, myth, and fashion intertwine. Her work proves that clothing is more than fabric; it’s a form of magic, a means of storytelling, and a way to embody the spirit of the past while moving boldly into the future.

    Shop Samantha Pleet Here!

  • Female Rage in Art

    Female Rage in Art

    There is something about female rage… Something beautiful. Something terrifying. And throughout art history, it has been documented, commodified, feared, and worshipped in equal measure.

    But then, sometimes, female rage doesn’t come with soft-focus lighting and a poetic backstory. Sometimes, it claws its way out in blood-red brushstrokes, in disjointed limbs and grotesque expressions. An art that makes the viewer wonder… Should I take a dagger to the thigh? 

    Women’s anger, when it makes its way into art, is often dressed up in tragedy—Mad Ophelia sinking into the river, Medusa a deterrent example, Judith slaying Holofernes but still looking poised and elegant. Although there are few examples of women in this state depicted in Pre-Raphaelite oil paint, those that do exist hold a special place in my mind’s gallery.

    Take Artemisia Gentileschi, the original feminist painter, who pawed through the pages of the Bible story of Judith and Holofernes and said, “Let’s make this realistic.” The result? A painting where Judith isn’t just delicately smiting her enemy—she’s hacking at his throat with pure, unfiltered rage. Blood spurts. Tendons snap. Holofernes is not dying a cinematic death; he is dying ugly, and Artemisia made sure we knew it. This was personal.

    Compare this to Caravaggio’s Judith Beheading Holofernes, where Judith’s expression is one of disgust and hesitance. She looks almost reluctant, as if she’s completing a distasteful chore. She wears an elegant white blouse, crisp and untouched by the carnage, making her seem distant from the violence she is committing. Meanwhile, Gentileschi’s Judith is fierce and determined, her sleeves rolled up, fully engaged in the act of revenge. She is not repulsed—she is resolute. This is the difference between painting a woman’s rage from the outside and painting it from within.

    The theme of female suffering and defiance is also captured in Portia Wounding Her Thigh, where Portia, the wife of Brutus, self-inflicts a wound to prove her strength and ability to bear pain. A dramatic and guttural moment, this act is both an assertion of willpower and an act of desperation.

    We also see this theme in Artemisia Gentileschi’s Lucretia, where Lucretia, moments before her tragic suicide, is painted with raw emotion. Unlike other depictions that focus on her beauty or the elegance of her suffering, Gentileschi gives her a sense of agency—her expression is one of painful resolve rather than passive despair.

    Even in more restrained works like Auguste Toulmouche’s The Reluctant Bride, the simmering frustration is present. The bride, adorned in silks, sits frozen in place, her body language betraying a deep reluctance. It’s a quiet, suppressed rage—the kind that has long been expected of women. The kind that doesn’t get to scream, but still refuses to disappear. It is all in the eyes. 

    The thing about female rage is that it has always been there, but the world has spent centuries trying to dull its edges. Art is where those edges get sharpened again. And frankly, there is nothing more powerful—or more satisfying—than that.

    Chorus Leader: You would become the wretchedest of women.

    Medea: Then let it be.

  • Understanding Heroin Chic: The Aesthetic of the 90s

    Understanding Heroin Chic: The Aesthetic of the 90s

    Ah, Heroin Chic. Even the name drips with controversy, conjuring images of hollowed-out cheekbones, smudged eyeliner, and a willowy frailty that could snap in a stiff breeze. If the ’80s were cocaine-dusted, champagne-fueled opulence, the ’90s dragged the party into the bathroom stall and turned on the flickering fluorescent light. This wasn’t just fashion; it was a full-blown aesthetic manifesto: decay, addiction, and rebellion served up as sexy, gritty art.

    Kate Moss—our poster child for the movement—was the face of this revolution. Waifish and wide-eyed, she became synonymous with the look. Who could forget the first time you stumbled across the infamous quote on Tumblr, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” paired with Kate’s haunting gaze? It’s an image seared into the collective memory of anyone who’s ever searched “edgy thinspo” at 2 a.m. Designers like Calvin Klein lapped it up, splashing this aesthetic across runways and ad campaigns. It was androgyny, fragility, and just rolled out of a bar fight with my rockstar boyfriend chic—a sharp pivot from the ’80s supermodel era, where big hair, big smiles, and big egos reigned supreme.

    Behind the scenes, photographers like Corinne Day and David Sims doubled down on the rawness. Their work didn’t just flirt with the spirit of this aesthetic—it French-kissed it in a back alley. Unapologetically romanticizing the messy, tragic seduction of addiction and alienation. The aesthetic bled into pop culture, turning up everywhere from Vogue to MTV. It was grunge for your closet, nihilism in a mascara ad.

    But not everyone was clapping. Critics—and there were plenty—called the whole thing out for what it was: a thinly veiled glorification of addiction and an unhealthy body image. The timing couldn’t have been worse. While Heroin Chic’s hollow-eyed muses smoldered on magazine covers, the heroin epidemic was wrecking communities across the world. Addiction, suffering, and death weren’t chic—they were devastating.

    And let’s not forget the body image disaster. This era did a number on how we define beauty. Models looked less “fashionably thin” and more “haven’t eaten since the Clinton administration.” For anyone struggling with body image, this was gasoline on an already raging fire. Eating disorders spiked, and young people everywhere were left chasing an unattainable ideal.

    By the late ’90s, the pendulum started to swing back. Fashion had its oops, maybe we went too far moment. Healthier bodies began to appear on runways, and Heroin Chic was quietly shuffled into the “bad idea” file of fashion history. But the damage was done. The ripple effects—on both the modeling industry and society at large—are still felt today.

    And speaking of the modeling industry, sure, we’ve made progress. Runways now host a kaleidoscope of body types, and “body positivity” is more than just a trending keyword. But the shadow of Heroin Chic still looms, a cautionary tale wrapped in chiffon and eyeliner.

    So let’s call Heroin Chic what it was: a moment of rebellion that danced with danger but left us with scars. It challenged beauty standards, but at a cost we’re still paying. The toll? Hormonal wreckage, mental health crises, and a generation of young people who think happiness comes in size 0. While we might be tempted to romanticize it in the warmth of nostalgia, let’s not forget the cold, hard truth: some trends should stay buried in the archives. 

  • Frazzled English Woman: The Aesthetic of Embracing Chaos

    Frazzled English Woman: The Aesthetic of Embracing Chaos

    The “Frazzled English woman” aesthetic is an illustrious mess, a balancing act between nearly having it all together and complete chaos. Imagine this: a woman speed-walking through London in a trench coat she definitely didn’t iron, holding a half-spilled latte in one hand and a cracked iPhone 16 frantically pressed to her ear with the other. Her hair is in a bun that might have started as a slick, neat updo but has since evolved into a Picasso of flyaways. She’s got a leather bag that looks too small to hold anything useful but is somehow bursting at the seams. And yet—she looks effortlessly chic, as if this entire state of disarray was curated by a team of stylists.

    The wardrobe essentials of the frazzled English woman? Think a half-buttoned silk blouse, trousers that are somehow both too short and too long, and either ballet flats or boots that scream “I swear these were comfortable when I bought them.” Accessories? the unsung heroes of this aesthetic. A scarf that started as a chic accent but is now slowly strangling her? Check. Oversized sunglasses on a rainy day because she forgot her umbrella and mascara is running down her face? Absolutely. There’s a certain art to appearing as though you’ve just run for the train, missed it, but still managed to land on the cover of Vogue. It’s about looking rushed but still slightly put-together—like you could book a last-minute flight to Paris if you weren’t currently lost in Sainsbury’s trying to remember if you’ve run out of oat milk.

    Makeup is optional, of course. Most days, it’s a quick swipe of mascara applied while power-walking to the tube. But looks like her personal masterpiece? That red lipstick she puts on sat on the second floor back seat of the bus just before a 4 p.m. meeting—bold, slightly wonky, and completely incongruent with her morning look. Smudged, sure, but that’s part of the charm. It says, “Yes, I’ve been through three existential crises today but in a cool way.”

    The frazzled woman doesn’t have time for proper outerwear, so her coat game is always one of two extremes. Either it’s an oversized, vintage trench that billows behind her dramatically as she runs for the train, or it’s a blazer she grabbed in a panic that’s definitely wrinkled from being shoved in her bag. Either way, she’ll look like she’s about to star in a BBC miniseries about a woman on the edge—but in a fabulous way.

    What makes this aesthetic so iconic is that she’s relatable. She’s not trying to be perfect. Her hair’s always got a mind of its own, her clothes are always seconds away from disaster, and her phone’s always on 1% battery. The Smiths are blasting through tangled wired headphones. But she keeps going, charging through her day like a chaotic tornado of fashion, responsibility, and unresolved personal dilemmas. In a world obsessed with polished Instagram perfection, she’s a breath of fresh, messy air.

  • Unveiling Creative Influences: From Gothic Fashion to Ethereal Films and Haunting Paintings

    Unveiling Creative Influences: From Gothic Fashion to Ethereal Films and Haunting Paintings

    I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a writer, and another fig was a filmmaker, and another fig was a fashion designer, and another fig was England and America and France, and another fig was Austin and Plath and Wharton and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an art director, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet. 

    The fig tree analogy in The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath immobilises me at the mere thought of the word “fig.” My tree has been a burden to me since I gained consciousness of the fact I have to be someone. Considering myself an artist in the most pretentious sense of the word, most of my influence stems from England. The music, culture, and gothic architecture constantly having grey clouds overhead, but most notably, the fashion. From travelling exceedingly as a child, my favourite game to play with myself was comparing what the cool girls would wear in each country, constantly analysing styles between the US and UK, and trying to find myself right in the middle, taking pieces from each. My style icon is Alexa Chung, the quintessential British “It Girl.” Her signature style seamlessly fuses British heritage pieces and vintage finds with a modern edge, effortlessly pairing feminine dresses with tomboyish staples like loafers, oversized sweaters, or blazers. She is the type of girl to wear a peter pan collar and Miu Miu ballet flats to the pub. This has made her a muse for designers and a beloved figure in street-style photography. Additionally my fashion designer of choice has always been Alexander McQueen. He frequently pushed the boundaries of traditional women’s fashion, incorporating gothic, romantic, and surreal elements. His collections often feature intricate tailoring, elaborate fabrics, and bold silhouettes that challenged conventional ideas of femininity. McQueen’s designs celebrated the strength and complexity of women, often reflecting themes of empowerment and vulnerability.

    I don’t watch many movies or TV shows. I often say I would rather hallucinate my stories between ink on pages and songs with lyrics that flow in and out of my consciousness. However, some films are able to break through my wall. Storytellers who I allow to make me sit and watch the visual contents of their minds. Sofia Coppola comes to the forefront of thought. Her films focus on themes of isolation, identity, and privilege, frequently depicting young women grappling with existential issues. Coppola uses sparse dialogue, lingering shots, and atmospheric soundtracks to create a sense of emotional distance and melancholy. The mood of her work is often ethereal and intimate, evoking a subtle, quiet beauty. That which encapsulates my being and what I hope to convey to the world.  

    I find myself daydreaming intensely, almost to a fault; music, the soundtrack to my creativity, usually depends on Arctic Monkeys’ lyrics, which often explore themes of youth, nightlife, relationships, and introspection. Alex Turner crafts vivid, frequently witty, and poetic depictions of love, desire, and the complexities of modern life. Their songs are filled with clever wordplay, sharp observations about social dynamics, and a sense of urban realism. Many tracks have a nostalgic or melancholic undertone, blending emotional depth with energetic, guitar-driven sounds. There’s a recurring theme of romance, self-awareness, and reflection on fleeting moments, all wrapped in evocative imagery. 

    I don’t necessarily have a favourite author. I know I am akin to specific genres and believe they have to start giving titles to books in which a young, beautiful girl goes insane due to reacting to her self-inflicted reality and starts taking sleeping pills. Those always resonate: “I understand her.” I think of these characters and keep them close to my heart. May Welland is the central character in The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton. Who embodies the ideal image of innocence and purity. Although outwardly conforming to societal expectations, she shows subtle strength and determination; despite her seeming naivety, she proves to be more perceptive and manipulative than she first appears. 

    I have always been envious of those who know their favourite piece of art. Mine changes often, though I have always gravitated towards Edvard Munch’s painting “The Vampire,” which depicts a woman with a menacing, almost demonic appearance kissing a man whose head is pressed against her shoulder. The painting is known for its intense emotional impact and unsettling atmosphere. The woman’s gaze is hypnotic and predatory, reflecting themes of obsession and desire. The dark, moody colour palette and dramatic composition contribute to the artwork’s overall sense of dread and unease. I appreciate Edvard’s work.  His expressionist paintings explore themes of anxiety, death, and existential dread. Edvards Munch’s art often reflects his struggles and the psychological depth of the human condition.

    I believe every woman needs an emotional support historical figure. Fortunately for me, I have two. Anne Boleyn symbolises the complex interplay between personal ambition, political power, and religious change in early 16th-century England. Additionally, her life and tragic end have made her a lasting figure in literature and popular culture, embodying themes of love, betrayal, and the struggle for influence. Though I adore how Anne fought for political power, I have a soft spot for Queen Victoria; I always ensure jet jewelry is visible on my body for her. On her wedding day, she wore a white satin gown adorned with Honiton lace, a break from the tradition of colorful bridal dresses. This decision helped popularize white as the standard for brides, symbolizing purity and innocence. In stark contrast, Queen Victoria entered a long mourning period after her husband’s death, Prince Albert. She famously wore black mourning attire for the rest of her life, making the “widow’s black” a symbol of grief and loss. Her mourning dress, austere and somber, became synonymous with the mourning culture of the Victorian era, shaping fashion trends for decades. Her white wedding gown and black mourning dress reflect the intensely personal emotions she associated with love and loss, turning these garments into historical symbols of her life and reign.

    Though I, unfortunately, do not have a British Monarchy to rule or an adaptation of The Virgin Suicides to write up, I find my creative inspiration in an amalgamation of visual art, music, literature, and history, which influence how I perceive and interpret the world. Whether it’s Sofia Coppola’s ethereal films, the Arctic Monkeys’ introspective lyrics, Munch’s haunting paintings, or the complex lives of women like Anne Boleyn and Queen Victoria, I connect gravely with themes of isolation, identity, ambition, and desire. These influences echo my introspections and fuel my constant search for beauty in the melancholy and complexity of life.